Girls on Girls: Erotic Stories of Lesbian BDSM

By Matt Nicholson

Girls on Girls features 7 BDSM-filled stories of woman on woman (or in some cases, women on woman) action by some of the Internet's finest erotic authors. Includes the only release of "Lavilla and the Nubian".

"Endurance Week" by Coco McCloud - Two women rough it in the wilds of Alaska, 'rough it' in more ways than one. One of them is a a luscious, submissive red-head with heavy, ripe breasts begging for use. The other is a dominant blonde who is more than willing to use them, and everything else her partner has to offer. The only thing that could make life better for them would be one more. Once they find her, things really heat up.

"Spy versus Spy" by Matt Nicholson - Heather Granger is one of the U.S.A.'s youngest spies, and she's been assigned to gather information from one of the Soviet Union's few women in the inner circle. Her target has a taste for younger, submissive women, bondage and discipline, a role Heather takes on with zeal. But when her cover is blown, and the older woman decides to interrogate her personally, things heat up Cold War style.

"Peeping Johnny" by Jude Mason - Life in the city was great. With buildings crushed against each other, his curvy, kinky neighbor lived just a few feet away. Separated only by two windows that gave him a hell of a view, he enjoyed a nightly show of tortured female flesh and masturbation. But on this night, just when his peep show had passed from clamps to needles, another woman walked into view. That's when it really got good.

"To Catch a Thief" by Coco McCloud - When a dominatrix shopkeeper catches a lovely young shoplifter steeling a bra, she gives the younger woman a choice between calling the police or getting a wholy different kind of punishment. Before long, the pretty thief finds herself naked, bound and helpless, being 'punished' in ways far different than allowed by law, ways that take pain and pleasure to heights neither of them have ever known.

"Pushing Limits" by Matt Nicholson - After years together, Bonnie and Lacy were among the lucky few. Sex was still good. Usually, it was great. It didn’t matter whose fantasy it was. From the day they met, their desires seemed to feed off each other. Lacy wanted the pain that Bonnie loved to give, but they both wanted more. When the breakthrough came that gave them their dreams, pleasure and pain would never be the same again.

"I Dream of Barbed Wire" by Leo Bulero - At first, her erotic dreams are tantilizing. She uses them to guide her and her boyfriend to punish and pleasure her in wonderfully brutal ways. When the dreams take more darkly erotic turns, so does she. Then a strange coincidence leads her to another woman and a past she can't escape. That's when the dreams become real, with bondage and erotic torture beyond anything she could have imagined.

"Lavilla and the Nubian" by Anonymous - One of them was born in the north country, the other on the giant southern continent. Both are now slaves to the Romans, lovers whose sole purpose is to entertain their Master and the Emperor in ways neither of them could have imagined. Unlike other slaves, their tools are sex and torment, bondage and discipline. Their victims--each other. It could have been far worse.

(Editor's Note: This work contains graphic language and sometimes extreme sexual depictions of consensual female bondage and sadomasochism. It is intended for mature audiences only and is not suitable for persons under eighteen years of age.)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Darker Pleasures
• Release date: Oct 10, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465808264

Matt Nicholson

Matt Nicholson is a freelance writer and editor for Darker Pleasures Publications, which makes him lucky enough to have written or edited all, or parts of, every story Darker Pleasures has published.Matt is a fan of both hard breast-oriented BDSM as well as hard femdom CBT. His tales, and those of his co-authors, range from R-rated erotica to hard bondage and more extreme BDSM fantasy. Their stories are available individually or in a number of anthologies including the "Tales of Submission" series, the "Beat 'Em or Bite 'Em" series focusing on breasts and BDSM, and the "Bust 'Em or Bite 'Em" series focusing on ball busting and hard CBT.When asked about his work, he says, "My goal is to make your most daring dreams of tit torture or cock and ball torture come to life. I want you to want to be in my character’s shoes, no matter how far from safe and sane the scene might be. Depending on your kink, you might not dare some of it in real life, but the idea still makes your cock stir or your pussy wet. I want to make sure you can’t help but wonder. That’s why we have fiction, to get around real life sensibilities. You read it to live in a world of BDSM you can’t live outside of the covers of a book."So, if you dream of being on the receiving end of such things and think Matt may be onto something, sit back and spread your legs. If your fantasy is to take a pair of tits or balls to the cleaners, turn on your reading lamp and settle in. Oh, and hear would love to hear what you think at mattnicholsonwriter (at) gmail.com.

Book preview

Girls on Girls: Erotic Stories of Lesbian BDSM

Edited by Matt Nicholson

Published by Darker Pleasures at Smashwords

Copyright 2012 Darker Pleasures

Smashword Edition, License Notes

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with other another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This work contains graphic language and sexual depictions with strong BDSM themes. It is intended for mature audiences only and is not suitable for persons under eighteen years of age. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Introduction by Matt Nicholson

Endurance Week by Coco McCloud

Spy versus Spy by Matt Nicholson

Peeping Johnny by Jude Mason

To Catch a Thief by Coco McCloud

Pushing Limits by Matt Nicholson

I Dream of Barbed Wire by Leo Bulero

Livilla and the Nubian by Anonymous

INTRODUCTION

Given the popularity of our lesbian-themed stories, I decided it would be a good idea to use some of them in Darker Pleasures’ second anthology. As fun as they are to write, I was surprised to find that only a handful of our authors had actually written them, though. When it came down to the nut cutting, or maybe tit twisting would be more appropriate, I eliminated three stories because they were almost novel-length and a couple others because of other issues. I fully expect you’ll be seeing the first three soon, maybe the others in time.

What remained included tales by Jude Mason and Leo Bulero, two stories each by Coco McCloud and me, and one from our Anonymous Author files. They range from Endurance Week’s girl on girl (and sometimes girls on girl) BDSM in the wilds of Alaska, to some steamy urban jungle window peeping in Jude’s Peeping Johnny, to upscale New York shoplifting chic in To Catch a Thief.

Since we never let when a tale takes place in history get in the way of a good story, Spy versus Spy takes us back to some Cold War intrigue while Livilla and the Nubian (published only in this anthology) explores a couple of feisty Roman slaves in the arena. My Pushing Limits is set just far enough in the future that little things like injuries don’t have the same concern as they do now. Imagine the possibilities.

Finally, there is Leo Bulero’s I Dream of Barbed Wire, a tale of vengeance mixed with just a touch of paranormal. I've revised and expanded this one just for this anthology.

In any case, they all have one thing in common—girls doling out plenty of bondage, punishment and kinky pleasure to other girls. Really, do we need anything else?

~Matt Nicholson~

ENDURANCE WEEK

By Coco McCloud

The rocks were slippery there beside the river. The trick was to get a good foothold, grasp a low tree branch, and then scoop the tin pail into the water. The cascades might have the power to snatch the bucket and her with it, but it was clear the redheaded woman was not about to let the river win.

From her vantage point on a nearby boulder, Carmen tilted her Stetson against the sun glinting off the rapids. Nothing must obstruct her view; she might have to swing into lifeguard mode if things suddenly went wrong.

Then, too, there was nothing like the sight of shapely Bess pitting her will and body against nature.

With a cagey smile, Carmen congratulated herself on her latest conquest. It had begun several nights earlier down at Wiley's Ale House. A waitress, Bess was sturdily built—good peasant stock—as one of Carmen's friends had joked. Feminine, but not fussy, and with an inner grit, such women seemed to blossom in that rough Alaskan town. Her smile and full figure beguiled, and she worked them, yet Carmen doubted many had recognized the fleeting vulnerability in her eyes.

Around midnight, Carmen had cornered her in a ladies' room stall. Pressing her prey's spine into cold tile and wedging a knee between her legs, she'd whispered, Don't act so surprised, baby. You've been flirting with me all night. Pulling back a bit, Carmen's gaze had lowered, coming to rest in assessment of the woman's chest. Mm…jumbo-sized happy meals. Ever had them worked over by a woman?

She had looked up to see Bess's eyes narrow in challenge, and then gradually darken into limpid pools of desire. She'd gulped, but hadn't struggled. Carmen had then given her the choice: You can tell me to back off now, or you can pull up your blouse and bra and let me go to work. Which will it be?

The object of that night's brash encounter presented an eye-soothing sight by the river's edge: long red hair, sun-kissed arms and shoulders, luscious legs, rounded bottom in tight jeans, and braless breasts swaying beneath a midriff-revealing tank top.

Why do we need more water, Carm? Bess called out, hauling two buckets, struggling up the rise to the massive rock where Carmen lounged like a cat in the sun. We have plenty up at the campsite.

Carmen rolled onto her stomach, resting her chin on her hands. True. But check out the present I've left you under those bushes over by the trail.

Bess grinned at the word present. She set the buckets on a flat rock, and jogged over to find her gift. Carmen chuckled to herself once she was out of earshot.

In a minute, Bess called out, What is this? From under the bushes, she drew out a five-foot long wooden contraption—two heavy chains attached to either end—and dragged it over to Carmen.

Don't you know what that is, silly? Carmen hopped from the boulder and took the thing in her hands. It's an old-fashioned yoke. Haven't you ever seen pictures of peasants carrying their loads this way? You'll find it's an excellent tool for carrying your pails uphill.

She waited a moment to let her words—and her plan—sink in. The stricken look on Bess's face grew, and her fight to keep those ruby lips from puckering into a pout sent a shiver of delight straight to Carmen's moist pussy.

Don't you like my present? She swept a strand of hair from Bess's forehead. Maybe you'll appreciate it more once I help you into it.

Bess's big breasts jiggled when she laughed. You've got to be kidding. In a smaller voice, she asked, You are kidding, aren't you?

~~~

Halfway up the hill to the campsite, Carmen observed from a few paces ahead. Below her, Bess plodded upward, shouldering the weight of the yoke, water splashing from swinging buckets, adding to her burden. Sweat dripped down her arms and chest, gleaming in the harsh sun. Her panting was audible.

Break time! But don't remove the yoke. Carmen dipped a cupped palm into a bucket, and brought it up to Bess's lips. Here, have a drink. The redhead sipped with a greedy mouth.

Well, I guess the yoke's on you, Carmen said, chuckling.

Bess stopped long enough to retort, You've been dying to say that all along, haven't you?

I'm incorrigible. Carmen shrugged, her gaze lowering to study the twin peaks jutting against Bess's top. Poor things are probably chafing against that fabric in all this heat. She continued her inspection, walking around her subject. Forcefully pressing her body into Bess's back, she rubbed the woman's arms.

Carmen, I'm more than willing to endure your whips, clamps, and all. But why do I have to carry the water? I mean, a yoke for chrissakes!

Carmen pressed her lips to Bess's ear, Because it makes me hot to see you toil. Imagine I'm Lady of the manor and you're mere chattel. Your physical misery and lowly status please me so much. Her fingers slowly drew up the front of Bess's top until her breasts were exposed. Bess sucked in a breath when Carmen pinched two nipples at full blossom between her fingers. Mm…how your Lady adores these… She tightened her clasp, her breath hot at Bess's ear. I wonder how it would make you feel if I were to pull you the rest of the way up the hill—by these—using them as handles. Let's see, shall we? Turn around.

Bess turned her face toward the ground and complied. Carmen grasped a handful of soft, red hair, jerking Bess's head so that she had no choice but to look at her.

A hiss escaped her lips, but the woman held her tongue.

While you're doing this, I want you to remember every detail of how this feels. I'll want to hear all about it later, understand?

Bess was too slow in indicating her acquiescence, so with her fingers still wound in her hair, Carmen forced the woman to nod, timed to each word: Yes. Ma'am. Yes. Ma'am.

Yes, Ma'am, Bess repeated, nodding on her own.

Good. Now, thrust those babies out. Show me how proud you are of them! Carmen licked her lips while Bess strained under the weight of the yoke. Trying not to spill her water, she stuck her chest out in a ridiculously exaggerated pose. The blonde reached out and grasped both nipples between her thumbs and index fingers.

Bess gasped at their pinch, her eyes widening as Carmen took a step backward up the hill, pulling. Apparently dumbstruck, Bess looked down at her distended, imprisoned tips. Carmen could almost imagine her inward struggle with this humiliating drill, wondering if Bess might call it all to a halt.

Making the clicking sound one does when urging a horse to move, Carmen took another step back, giving the woman's swollen knobs a couple of encouraging jerks as if they were reins. Bess took a few steps forward.

Good girl, easy…easy… Extend your arms upward and wrap your hands 'round the ends of the yoke. Nice. Makes you feel ever so vulnerable, doesn't it? So exposed! Let's pick up the pace. Up we go, slowly but surely…

The tautening nubs pinched between her fingers—such natural devices for pulling—grew hot and moist in Carmen's grasp. It thrilled her that she'd decided against tit clamps attached to leader chains. That would have been a delightful torment, but she savored the more intimate feel of her fingers lifting the weight of those hefty melons by their tender tips. Her cunt quivered, infinitely aroused.

Once the two had almost made it to the top of the hill, Carmen announced in a haughty voice, I'm tired of looking at that strained expression of yours. She yanked Bess's top up and over her face, forcing the tormented redhead to rely solely on Carmen's lead. Unsure of her footing, moving more hesitantly, she endured harder tugs and tougher yanks. Little mewling noises escaped her lips from time to time. Carmen couldn't tell if those were due to physical discomfort or humiliation. The added impact of knowing her face displeased was something no woman wanted to hear. Truth was, nothing could have tickled Carmen more.

~~~

Late afternoon sun shimmered through the forest, shining through the leaves overhead. At a picnic table, her writing pen poised over paper, Carmen paused to cherish the watercolor green canopy above. She loved the solitude of this remote campsite, so secluded from other people who might overhear occasional whimpering, ecstatic moans, or little cries for mercy.

The sounds of panting and feet rustling through the underbrush interrupted her thoughts. From down on the hillside, her curvaceous plaything returned from her latest task, dragging dead tree branches behind her.

Will these do? Bess called, one foot slipping, stumbling a little, swearing under her breath as she worked her way up the rise.

Perfect! Carry those to the fire pit, and then come here.

Bess obeyed. Carmen gestured for her to come closer. Seated with her back to the picnic table, she caressed Bess's arms. Enjoy your tasks today, honey? You've worked up quite a sweat. Tell me, what did it feel like, wearing that big old yoke, carrying all that heavy wood, being your Lady's personal beast of burden?

I'm not so sure. Part of me…liked it. Part of me…didn't.

Carmen laughed. Is it so different from carrying heavy trays of drinks for hours on end, serving your customers, dressed in that silly uniform, night after night? I'll bet many of your customers already think of you as a sort of sexual servant.

Maybe I should consider delivering their beer by the yoke load.

Cute. But seriously, I've been meaning to introduce a new facet to our play, and that time has come. Of course, use your safe word if I'm going too fast for you.

But then, if I use it, you'll not want me any longer and--

Hush! Not true. Listen. I've no doubt you can take a lot. You've proven that, over and over in a very short time. You please me so much with your willingness to endure every physical punishment I inflict. But there's nothing like the heady element of humiliation to sweeten the pot, and the sooner you grasp that, the sooner you'll see that pain and humiliation go together like berries and cream. That's what this week is all about. Are you up to the challenge?

Bess considered for a moment, and quietly answered, I'll try.

Wonderful! Grab me a bottle of water from the cooler.

Carmen watched the redhead hurry to the tent, and thanked her luck. Having found such a prize, untouched by the whip, and until today, untried by the mind games of humiliation, was quite a coup. Far too many women she'd chosen before had been much too easy with their submission, often lacking the intelligence or the spirit to appreciate how one's humiliation could be another's ultimate turn-on. Oh, but not this one. Smart, with a healthy self-esteem still intact, Bess would catch every nuance, every brain-bending tribulation Carmen's imagination might concoct.

Returning with water, Bess offered it to her.

Drink. You've earned it. Say, did you notice the sexy brunette who waited on us in the camp store this morning? Her eyes never left your tits.

Bess laughed, nearly spitting out her drink. I thought she was more interested in you—with your blond hair and all.

Carmen shrugged. Maybe a little.